Berkley turned sharply at the sudden entrance. "Ah," he exclaimed, "you are just the man I was thinking of. I've been going over these papers again, Jeffreys, and so far as I can judge, it looks like a pretty good case. Sit down and we'll talk it over."
Jeffreys drew up a chair. Berkley wheeled around and the two sat facing one another. "Of course," Berkley began, "you realize that the property referred to is Miss Talbot's old home, Talbot's Angles."
Mr. Jeffreys looked down. "Yes, I inferred so, although at first I was uncertain, not knowing as much as I do now."
"The records will have to be searched, of course, and we can find out who has been paying taxes and all that, you understand. I don't know that I shall have time to attend to it myself; I am pretty busy just now."
"That is too bad; I depended on you, Matthews."
"I know you did, but – "
Wyatt Jeffreys leaned forward. "Is it only because you are busy? Is that the only reason?"
Berkley did not answer at once; then he parried the question.
"What other reason could there be?"
"Your interest in Miss Talbot. I realize, Matthews, that I have come down here a perfect stranger to deprive a very lovely young woman of her property, and that you should in all reason feel antagonistic is not to be wondered at. I think you have known for some time that it was her property that I claimed."
"I have known it only since I made a closer examination of these papers."
"Very well; that does not alter the fact that you have been uniformly kind and considerate so far as I was concerned, and therefore I feel that I can speak as man to man." He paused. "Unless you have a prior claim, there is no need of Miss Talbot's losing her property if – "
"She will take you with it," Berkley filled the pause. "I understand." The crucial moment had come. Berkley suddenly swung his chair around, his face, turned from the other, was white and set, but he said steadily, "That would certainly be the best way out of the difficulty. I have no prior claim, Jeffreys, and I wish you success." He swung himself back again and held out his hand.
The other took it in a firm grip. "That is good of you, Matthews. I appreciate your kindness more than I can say." There was silence, broken by Mr. Jeffreys, who went on: "If it is only the matter of delay then, Matthews, I can wait your good pleasure, if you will take up my case."
Berkley gave himself time before he answered. Why shouldn't he take the case? What odds, now, what Linda thought? He had relinquished all rights to her consideration. If he did not hunt up the evidence, someone else would, and she be no better off. If he must disregard her, he could at least be true to Jeffreys. "I'll not go back on my word. I'll take it," he said shortly.
"I've kept a busy man too long," said Jeffreys rising, "but I hope some day I can show my appreciation of what you are doing for me, in more ways than one," he added with a smile. He held out his hand. Berkley took it mechanically, saying, "Good-night."
"Good-evening," returned Mr. Jeffreys, and he went out.
It was not late, though growing dark, but to Berkley it had become darkest night. Never, till that moment, had he realized how strong a hold upon him his affection for Linda had taken. She was so sweet, so gentle, one whose presence always brought calm and peace, yet she could be very droll and merry, very bright and entertaining, with a blessed grace of humor. With all her poetic fancy there was the domestic side, too, which had made her the successful housekeeper when yet but a school girl. And how dainty she always was, how womanly her little frills and simple ornaments. Even the way her dark hair grew around her pretty low forehead, and was worn parted above it, made her distinctive from other girls, whose monstrous puffs and braids gave them a top-heavy look. What a woman for a man to come home to after a day of stress. She, who had striven for her daily bread, how well she would understand what a man's battle of life meant. His first impulse was to throw everything to the winds, to snatch up his hat and rush off to her, beg her to listen to him, tell her he would work for her, live for her, die for her. He stood for a moment, trembling with intensity of feeling, then he sat heavily down again. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I must think of her, of what is best for her."
Moments passed. The street lamps shone out, footsteps echoed and reëchoed. Some boys went by singing. In the darkness Berkley sat very quietly, only once in a while he whispered, "Oh, God! oh, God!" as one who has found his Gethsemane. The hours wore on, the street grew very quiet, the rumbling of wagons, the tread of passers-by ceased. Lights in the lower stories of the houses began to be extinguished, while those above showed in first one room and then another. Berkley finally arose, stumbled uncertainly across the street and up to his room, where he threw himself across his bed, face down, and lay there all night wrestling with himself.
CHAPTER XVI
"BEGONE, DULL CARE"
The days slipped by till the Christmas holidays were at hand. Linda was busy with her school. Miss Ri occupied herself with the hundred things which kept her interests alive. Her clubs, church meetings, visits to sick neighbors, public and private charities, all filled her days to overflowing. Mr. Jeffreys called regularly, so it came to be an understood thing that he would appear either afternoon or evening. Berkley visited the house seldom, and rarely when Linda was at home. He would run in once in a while, asserting that he was too busy to stay and had only dropped in to say "Howdy." He would question Miss Ri about her affairs, but before she could turn her queries upon him, he would be off. After that one bitter fight, he had himself well in hand, and the fact that he worked far into the night and was fast gaining a reputation for industry and exactness, not only bore out his statements, but caused him to stand well with the older lawyers.
"That's a young man who will make his mark," said Judge Baker to Miss Ri one morning when he met her on the street – Berkley had just passed them with a swift bow – "though I am afraid he is working too hard."
"I'll have to haul him over the coals," returned Miss Ri. "You know he is a great favorite of mine, Judge."
"So I have observed. Give him a little motherly advice, Miss Ri. He needs it. He mustn't be burning the candle at both ends; but I prophecy, that if he continues to exhibit the keenness and skill he is developing, he will be judge some day."
The words returned to Miss Ri as she walked down street, and her thoughts went back to the trunk and then to the papers. There had been no news from Judge Goldsborough, and there appeared to be an absolute lull. Mr. Jeffreys had announced that Berkley was going to take up the case as soon as he had time, and so it stood.
If Linda missed Berkley, she did not say so, and never commented upon his sins of omission. She accepted Mr. Jeffreys' constant attention as a matter of course, was chagrined only when he refused to tell her about his claim, for he always set aside the question with, "We cannot tell definitely as yet."
"He is such a cautious, deliberate person," complained the girl one day to Miss Ri. "I wish he would show a little more spontaneity."
"I thought you admired his beautiful dignity and reserve."
"Oh, I do; except when I want my curiosity satisfied," laughed Linda. "I don't doubt but that he says what he really means, which is more than can be believed of some persons I know."
Miss Ri gave her a sharp, quick look, but made no comment. Her crochet needle moved swiftly in and out the meshes of white wool she held. "Verlinda," she said presently, "how would you like to go up to the city for your holiday? I invite you as my guest. We can get someone to stay here in the house to keep Phebe satisfied, and we'll have a real rollicking time going to the theatre, shopping, seeing our friends, and giddy-gadding generally. What do you say to it?"
"Oh, Aunt Ri, it would be perfectly delightful, but – "
"But what?"
"Won't it be very expensive?"
"It won't be too expensive. I've just had a dividend I didn't expect, and I can't think of a pleasanter way of spending it. I hate to go poking around by myself, and I don't know anyone whom it would be more real joy to have with me."
"Not Miss Parthy?"
"Oh, Parthy's an old stick when it comes to the city. She isn't young enough," Miss Ri laughed comfortably.
Linda sat bending over an embroidered piece she was doing for Grace's Christmas. There was a reminiscent look on her face. This would be her first Christmas since Martin died. It would be hard not to spend the day as usual in the old home, and harder still not to hear the voice of him who had always made Christmas a happy day for her. Yet, after all, it would be less lonely with Miss Ri, for had not the dear woman made this a true home for her? It was like her to plan this outing, that the girl might not yearn too deeply for past joys. There would not be the old church to decorate, as in the years gone by, but on Christmas Eve she could take wreaths to the churchyard. Her thoughts were far away when Miss Ri's voice roused her.
"Well, shall we go?"
"If you really think you would enjoy having me," answered Linda, coming back to the present. "I think you are a darling to ask me."
"Of course I'd enjoy having you. We can have our Christmas here – Phebe would be broken-hearted if we didn't allow her to cook our Christmas dinner – and then we'll pack up our duds and go. I don't know that I can take you to any big functions, but we can have a mighty good time, I truly believe. We ought to have someone to dine with us on Christmas Day to make it more festive. I'd ask Berk, but he wouldn't miss spending the day with his mother for worlds. We might have Parthy and Mr. Jeffreys. Parthy hasn't any too good a woman in the kitchen, and it would suit all around; give her a rest and please the cook."
So it was arranged, and Linda looked forward quite joyously to the ten days in the city. Never before had such a treat been hers; a few days at a time had been the utmost of her stay. She had gone to her brother's wedding, a showy affair in which she had little heart, and had several times remained with a friend over Sunday, but this was a very different affair.
Phebe, on being consulted as to whom she would prefer to look after while the two were absent, gave an unqualified vote for Mr. Berk. "He so jokey, Miss Ri," she said, "an' he do look at my wittles lak he can't wait. Den he a gem'man. I laks to wait on a rale gem'man, one o' de ole fambly kin'. Mr. Jeffs he a gem'man, too, I specs, but he don' know nuffin how to talk to us niggers. He so solemn, lak ole owl, or fo' all de worl' lak a preacher. He tas'es dis an' he tas'es dat lak he dunno whe'r he gwine lak it or no. Mr. Berk he shake he haid an' say, 'Um-um, dat sholy look good.' Mr. Jeffs ack lak he feard somebody think he enjyin' hisse'f, but Mr. Berk thes pitch in an enjy hisse'f 'thout carin' what anybody think."
Miss Ri laughed and, upon the occasion of her next walk down town, stopped at Berk's office to ask if he would take possession and sleep nights at her house during the holidays. He responded with alacrity, promising to behave himself, but begging that he might be allowed to take his meals at the hotel.
"And disappoint Phebe? Never!" cried Miss Ri. "She is counting upon feeding you up. I told her you were getting thin and pale because they didn't give you enough to eat at the Jackson House, and she is fairly aching to provide for you. She will have to cook for herself, and why not for you? Besides, you are her choice of the whole townful, so you should feel flattered."
"I do," returned Berkley, "and very grateful to both you and her. I'll come, Miss Ri. When do you start?"
"The day after Christmas. You'll be back by then?"
"Oh, yes, I'll be back. I shall go to town only for the day, and must be here for various reasons as soon as practicable."
"Then that is settled. Merry Christmas, Berk. I wish you could dine with us, but I know your mother's mind, and I wouldn't even suggest such a thing."
Miss Ri's box of books provided several gifts for outsiders, but for Linda was a special gift obtained, a fine soft evening cloak, something she did not possess, and which she would need during her holiday visit. From the new cousin came a handsome set of books and a box of flowers, the latter for both ladies. A very ornate, wholly impossible scarf of coarse texture arrived from Grace for her sister-in-law.